


Hollow Out My Hungry Eyes

by halflightwrites



Category: Shazam! (2019)
Genre: Angst and Porn, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, College, Denial of Feelings, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Porn With Plot, Topping from the Bottom, Underage Drinking, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-03-08 08:36:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18891019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halflightwrites/pseuds/halflightwrites
Summary: He and Freddy weren’t anything. Just best friends and roommates, and though Billy was getting off in Freddy’s bunk to the idea of him, the fact that Freddy was currently hanging out with his long-time fuck buddy said the feeling wasn't mutual.





	1. Caught

**Author's Note:**

> This might be a little ooc for Freddy, but I feel like after a few years of super-heroeing & having Billy around his confidence would improve + he clearly speaks his mind/proves his points when he knows he's right, so

Billy curled into himself on the bottom bunk and pressed his nose against the pillow—Freddy’s, and it smelled just like him: shampoo and sweat and metal. He pushed his boxers down roughly, and the fabric caught on the sharp jut of his hip, drug against the dark hair of his thigh, but it was enough. Billy gripped his cock and almost sighed in relief.

It was summer. His last one under this roof, before he and Freddy would trade their bunkbed for a twin set of dorm mattresses in August and try their luck as actual adults. A future Billy was looking forward to and dreading in equal measure, jumping at the freedom that college would bring but landing in the reality that with it came course deadlines and rent and the possibility that he and Freddy could fall apart when new people were introduced. 

Billy didn’t want to think about that; he’d been driving himself crazy with the idea for months. He and Freddy weren’t anything. He knew that. Just best friends and roommates, and though Billy was getting off in Freddy’s bunk to the idea of him, the fact that Freddy was currently hanging out with his long-time fuck buddy said the feeling wasn't mutual. 

Billy shoved his boxers down farther and sped up his hand. The bedroom was full with hot June air, but the sheets unmade beneath him were cool still. Billy wanted to stretch out, occupy Freddy’s absent space in his bed while no one was around to see. Instead, he slid his leg up and tucked it against him, knee to chest, his boxers stretching thin across his thigh. 

Billy sucked his fingers into his mouth, coated them as best he could in spit and then slipped them, fast and careless, inside himself. It was just enough to scratch the itch that had been building since summer began. He closed his eyes and focused on the feeling, on Freddy’s scent clinging to the sheets around him.

It was so much easier like this, in these fleeting moments Billy snatched for himself when he could pretend that things weren’t so far out of his control it was laughable. With his hand pumping around his cock, his fingers working rough and steady inside him, he could push down on the fear that refused to leave. That college would change things; that somehow, some way, no matter how hard Billy tried, he would end up losing Freddy. To life or a girl or boy or to the undeniable, unavoidable fact that Billy was in love with him. 

Billy tightened his fist and moaned. He was so fucking close, just scraping the edge of release for everything he’d been ignoring and holding back. Billy didn’t do this often, let himself pretend, but when he did it was always good. Always enough to quiet the feelings he’d pent up, at least for a little while.

Freddy’s voice rose from the stairs and Billy froze. Deer in headlights, red handed with his hand around his cock. Undeniable. Billy pulled the sheets up fast, but the door was already opening.

“—nothing to worry about!” Freddy called over his shoulder, probably to Rosa downstairs. Then he turned and saw Billy sitting half-naked on his bed and froze. Freddy’s eyes flicked over the sheet, pulled taut over Billy’s lap to cover himself, and Billy’s face, hair a sweaty mess against his neck. Billy didn’t meet his eyes.

Freddy held still for a long moment, then stepped fully into the room. He shut and locked the door behind him.

Billy watched as Freddy crossed the room. Freddy set his backpack down at the desk and very carefully unzipped it without looking at him. Billy felt trapped there, pinned to the mattress and unable to move or hide or explain himself. What would he even say? 

The two of them were close enough that they talked about sex; Billy knew Freddy first had it with a girl named Scarlett and then a boy named Connor, and Freddy knew Billy first had it with a girl named Hannah, but didn’t know that he’s who Billy thinks about now when he imagines someone touching him.

That wasn’t exactly something you admitted to your best friend, even when they caught you doing it.

Freddy cleared his throat. “Any particular reason you’re jacking it on my bed?” he asked, and even from the side Billy could tell he was smirking.

Billy swallowed. He gripped the sheet in one hand, kept it pulled high enough around him that the line of his body was obscured, while his other hand had strayed absently back to his cock.

“Can you leave?” he managed.

Freddy turned to face him. His grip on his crutch was white, but there was something in his eyes that told Billy he was enjoying this. “Why, so you can finish?”

“Preferably, yeah.”

Freddy wrinkled his nose, but his smirk didn’t falter. “Then I’d have to change my sheets,” he said. 

Billy wanted to disappear; he wanted the ground to open beneath him and swallow him and every small detail of this moment, the bunkbed and the mattress and the sheets folding inward as they collapsed, holding him tight like an embrace to keep him from doing the same.

Freddy stepped forward until his knees hit the edge of the mattress, blocking Billy in. “What are you doing?” he asked, as if it wasn’t obvious.

“What does it look like?” Billy shot back, suddenly angry and, beneath that, scared.

His chest burned a line straight down through him. This was almost better; if Freddy called him out, Billy wouldn’t lie. Agreement would be easier than admission. Then maybe the fear that had been corroding inside him would finally end.

But Freddy didn’t. He leaned down, letting his crutch fall carelessly to the hardwood, so Billy let himself pretend. When their mouths met it was so much better than Billy’s fantasies, because it was real, and so much worse, because it was happening like this. 

Still, Billy kissed back. Immediately, furiously. He couldn’t help it. Nothing about this situation was under his control.

“What are you doing?” Billy asked when they broke apart.

“What does it look like?” Freddy returned, then crawled fully onto the bed. He pressed Billy down until his back hit the mattress again.

Freddy settled over him, their hips pressed together in the cradle of Billy’s thighs, and Billy didn’t even care that his boxers were cutting a line into his skin. Freddy must have noticed though, because he leaned back and pulled them down. He ripped them loose from around Billy’s ankles and threw them carelessly to the ground, leaving Billy naked beneath him save for his t-shirt.

Freddy looked down at him, nails biting moons into Billy’s hip, something dark and hungry in his eyes. Billy blinked at the underside of the top bunk and tried to get a grip. 

“What were you thinking about?” Freddy asked. “Were you thinking about me?”

Freddy’s face was smug when Billy nodded. He wouldn’t lie, not to Freddy. 

“Yes,” he said, damning himself. There was nothing left to do; this was going to end, sooner rather than later, rough and unwelcome rather than gentle, easy. It was going to end, but Billy could enjoy it while it lasted.

“Yeah?” Freddy said, and his voice was like a firm nudge, coaxing. “Tell me.”

He pushed Billy’s shirt up, then bent down and traced the thin line of hair on Billy’s stomach with his nose, breath sending hot shivers down and curling Billy’s toes. Freddy paused at Billy's hips, dipped his tongue into the curve of the bone and sucked a mark there. “C’mon. Don’t get shy on me now,” he said.

Billy arched toward his mouth, but Freddy pulled away. 

“I was thinking about you,” Billy said, just to make Freddy come back. And he did. As Billy talked, Freddy laid out his body. He marked a line with bites and kisses down to Billy’s cock, still hard and aching against his stomach, and took it, light and teasing, into his hand.

“I was thinking about you fucking me,” Billy said, finding more relief than he thought possible as the words left his mouth. “Your fingers inside me. Your cock. I was thinking about you pinning me down, holding me in place while you fuck me and—”

“Keep talking,” Freddy said, pulling away. 

Billy swallowed, watched Freddy pull his shirt off, stand up with one hand braced against the top bunk to kick his own jeans and boxers off. “You’ve done more than me, you would know how to do it right. Know how to make me come,” Billy said. 

Freddy pulled something from his backpack on the desk, then fell to his knees back on the mattress. He popped the cap and Billy caught on—lube, of course. Freddy had just come home from Sadie’s. Billy pushed that thought away before it could ruin this.

“Is that what you want?” Freddy asked.

Billy nodded, closed his eyes, said, “Yes.”

He let Freddy flip him over. Billy held himself up on his elbows over Freddy’s pillow and waited, mind blank, heart pounding. Freddy didn’t stretch him, and Billy was almost thankful as Freddy’s slick hand found his hip. 

Billy wanted to feel this. He wanted to remember what it felt like, so that tomorrow when he wasn’t sure if it’d been real, he would know.

Freddy slid inside him. “This what you wanted?”

Billy was full to the point of breaking; he thought if Freddy were less careful, less easy on him, he would surely split open. It was overwhelming, and as Freddy started moving, Billy had to smother his sound into the pillow.

“Yes,” Billy breathed, voice unsalvageable. 

It was better than anything Billy could have dreamed up, and all he could do was ride it out. Freddy fucked him, fast but steady, and Billy ached with it. Each thrust sent an electric jolt up his spine, over and over until he was shaking from it. He gripped the sheets beneath him. The bedframe knocked softly on the wall once, then again, marking this secret in Morse code. 

Billy focused on the rough slide of Freddy’s cock inside him, the bite of Freddy’s nails, the sweat beading on Freddy’s chest where it pressed to Billy’s back. Freddy’s moans, stifled but real, behind him.

Billy tried to memorize every detail of it, because he knew it would be his only chance.

He came, too fast. When Freddy followed a moment later Billy felt it, hot inside him. Then Freddy pulled out and his cum spilled out too, dripping warm against the back of Billy’s thighs.

Freddy let go of him and Billy felt the loss of it, knew that any hope he'd had of pretending he felt otherwise was gone. Billy curled into the sheets, wanting to start again, wanting to hold onto the feeling of Freddy’s heat and cum and cock inside him. That whole feeling.

Freddy moved behind him. Billy listened to the sound of the floorboards, the zipper on Freddy’s backpack, his ragged breathing. Freddy crawled over Billy to settle against the wall and looked at him.

Billy closed his eyes, fisted his hand in the sheets at his chest. He could feel a breakdown coming, and he didn’t want to have one right now. Not when he was still coming down, not with Freddy watching him.

Freddy touched his shoulder and Billy flinched. “Don’t.”

“Why not?” Freddy asked, and if Billy didn’t know better he would think the question was honest. That Freddy really wanted an answer.

“I’m going to cry,” Billy said instead, laughing, because it was stupid. He was better than this; he knew how to hide his soft parts, and yet here he was falling apart after a casual fuck because he couldn’t get a grip on his feelings.

But it wasn’t casual, not to him. And yet he’d wanted it, had gone along with it, knowing his best friend didn’t look at sex the same way. Knowing Freddy didn’t think sex had anything to do with love, and maybe he was right. Maybe Billy was the one who had it wrong. After all, Billy had had sex before and it never felt like this.

“Why?” Freddy asked. “Was it really that bad?” He laughed too, a little alarmed and a little bit like scrambling. Freddy had no idea, and Billy couldn’t find the words to tell him.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“You mean I wasn’t supposed to catch you.”

Freddy reached a hand out again, and this time Billy didn’t pull away. This was fine, normal. They touched a lot under normal circumstances—pressed together on the couch or in the car, laid in Freddy's bunk just like this to read or play on their phones or, occasionally, less so now, after nightmares. 

Freddy pressed Billy against him and pulled the crumpled sheet back up to cover them. Billy still had his t-shirt on, and it smelt like sex, like Freddy. He didn’t let himself cry, but he could feel his fear rising to choke him before sleep came. 

***

When Freddy woke up to an empty bed he wasn’t surprised.

Confused? Sure. Panicked? Yes. But surprised? Not at all.

Billy was nothing if not predictable, and Freddy should have thought past sex to what came after—awkward conversations and unwanted emotions and relationships ending ahead of schedule.

Freddy’s sexual history could be summed up, as Billy often did, with the phrase, “casual fuck.” He got attached to things—facts and superheros and big, untouchable concepts. Things that could never love him back, and so the consequences of loving them were nonexistent. Ones he would never have to face because they were a non-issue; you didn’t have to worry about the idea of justice sitting you down and breaking things off. 

But with people, you did. 

People had feelings and opinions and made heartbreaking decisions all the time. And somehow, somewhere along the way, Freddy had decided it was easier to just avoid all of that from the start. 

So he had sex, but he kept it casual. Freddy told everyone who even looked his way that right from the get-go, and so far it had worked. Teenagers had sex all the time and it almost never meant anything. 

It’s not that Freddy didn’t believe in love. He full-heartedly did, saying otherwise would make him a hypocrite. But he also knew where to draw the line between the physical and the psychological. Sadie was a like-mind; she’d been the first person he looked at afterward and thought _maybe_ , and she’d been the first girl to look at him afterward and say, “Don’t even think about it.”

So they hungout and talked and had sex sometimes, and that was cool. Next to Billy, Freddy thought of her as his best friend.

Sadie could read him with one look, like all of his panels were full-color, on display for the world to see. She asked him once, her blue sheets folded in waves around her naked hips, why he bothered pretending. 

When Freddy asked what the hell she was talking about, Sadie said, “With Billy. I mean, it’s obvious you want him. So what are you doing fucking around with me? Just seems like you’re wasting time is all.”

“I’m not in love with him,” Freddy said, but the words were as flat as the line of Sadie’s mouth. 

“If you say so,” Sadie said, and let the topic go. 

The thing about love was that it could be a lot of things: a person, a feeling, a big, untouchable concept. So Freddy approached it that way—he turned the idea over and over in his mind, looked at it from all angles, and came to a conclusion.

He was a liar. 

That was over a year ago, and he’d sat with that knowledge in the back of his mind and done absolutely nothing about it since then. Freddy still had casual sex and shied away from people, and Billy still got attached and fell apart just as easily. It wasn’t a good combination; even if Freddy thought Billy felt the same way, he couldn’t be sure that it would work if they started something. 

Freddy wasn’t going to risk a broken heart. His or Billy’s. He wasn’t going to gamble their friendship on the untouchable idea of love.

 

“Go home,” Billy said when Freddy landed. He had his head tipped back against the concrete ledge of the roof. His hair, where it poked out from beneath his beanie, was still mussed, and Freddy felt the heat of his skin as a phantom sensation.

Freddy sat down carefully beside him, leaving enough room between them to breathe. He stretched his legs out and called on the lightning, then said, “Not without you.”

Billy blinked at the darkening sky, shook his head. “Why are you here?”

Freddy hated that; it wasn’t enough that Billy didn’t like himself, he thought everyone else had to feel the same way. Billy threw shrapnel like it was second nature, swung first instead of waiting to be hit. 

“Looking for you, asshole,” Freddy said, and Billy scoffed. “You’re not a kid, you can’t just run away whenever you feel like it. Rosa and Victor are worried about you.”

Billy looked sideways a fraction of an inch. “Just them?”

Freddy sighed. “No. Not just them.”

For one insane moment, he thought about spilling his guts. Freddy could imagine Sadie’s reaction if he did—her sharp, satisfied grin, her mouth as she said, _Took you long enough!_ —but he couldn’t imagine Billy’s. It could be the best decision of his life, or it could be the worst. And he had no way of knowing. He held back.

“Look, the way I see it you have two options here: you come home and we forget about today. Never talk about it again and just move on with our lives. Or two, you come home and we talk about it. Deal with the fallout, whatever it is. Either way, you’re coming home.”

Billy laughed, small and forced. “What if I don’t want to?”

The question felt like a rejection, and Freddy was glad he hadn’t said how he really felt. “Because of me?”

“No, I just… yeah. Because of you.”

Freddy shifted. “Well, then I guess… tough shit. You have to come home. I know you pulled that living on the street bullshit before, but I’m not letting you do it again. And I know you don’t even want to, because you let me find you. You’re sat out here in plain sight, somewhere where you knew I’d look.”

Billy shrugged, as if the fact that he’d ended up on the roof of his mother’s apartment building was a strange coincidence and not an obvious surrender.

“Okay,” Billy said after a few minutes. He held up a single finger between them, as if to say, _hold on. Wait._

“Okay,” Freddy agreed, pushing down on the irrational disappointment that formed at Billy’s choice. This was best, this was safer.

He called on the lightning again and got to his feet, then reached a hand down to pull Billy up. Billy took his hand and transformed in the same breath. 

“That’s what you want?” Freddy asked, just to make sure.

“That’s what I want,” Billy nodded. His eyes followed the opposite edge of the roof before flicking down, to where Freddy was holding up his hand between them.

“Really?” Billy laughed.

Freddy lifted his pinky finger. “I’m trying to keep you honest,” he said, instead of, _I don’t believe you._

Billy shook his head, but after a moment he locked their pinkies together. Fast, casual.

Then they went home, and they didn’t talk about it.


	2. the b-side of a bad decision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how alcohol works & Billy has to pee a lot

Billy leaned against the wall and swallowed back the last of his drink. 

Across the room Freddy stood with his arm around Sadie’s shoulders, a red solo cup in his other hand, elbow balanced on his crutch. They were talking with a few people Freddy had mentioned from his classes, though Billy couldn’t remember any of their names. Sadie probably knew, and she didn’t even go to school here. 

People stood and swayed and passed through the middle of the room, but in the snatches of empty space between bodies Billy saw Freddy lean down and kiss Sadie’s shoulder. He looked away then, not really in the mood to ruin his own night with stupid, pointless feelings and useless jealousy. 

Billy’s eyes trailed over the crowd before locking on someone else’s. The guy smiled at him, so Billy smiled back, then peeled himself off the wall and headed toward the kitchen. 

Billy wasn’t surprised when the guy followed. That’s why people came to parties, after all, and what frat houses were known for—sex and drugs and all around bad decisions. 

Billy poured himself another drink from the options on the island while the guy leaned against the counter at his elbow.

“You want a pick-me-up?” he asked, and Billy was drunk enough that the question pulled at something inside him. 

“I’m not into drugs,” Billy said.

The guy laughed, and when Billy looked at him he found dark hair and light eyes and a smile. There was a little gap between his front two teeth, but otherwise it was a nice smile. “No, that’s cool. Not what I was offering, though.”

“Oh,” Billy said. He squeezed the soft sides of his cup inward, looked sideways at the guy and then back to his hand on the counter. 

“I’m Matt,” the guy said.

“Billy,” he responded, focusing on the pale blue shade of Matt’s eyes. Those were nice too, like his smile, and so different from the ones Billy was used to looking at. The difference felt good, like some small victory he could take.

“So, Billy,” Matt said, “do you wanna see upstairs?”

Billy licked his lip, pulled it in between his teeth and released it again. “If you wanna show me.”

 

Matt knew how to kiss, and he didn't seem to mind the fact that Billy was less experienced. Billy had only kissed a few people in high school—Hannah when they had sex, and only because it felt like the two things went hand in hand, and a few other girls on the first and only dates he’d taken them on. 

Billy wasn’t big on making out, or at least he didn’t have enough experience with it to say for sure. It felt like something intimate, more so even than when Matt got to his knees and pulled down Billy's jeans. He swallowed Billy’s cock and made Billy come in the bathroom upstairs, his knuckles white against the sink behind him and head buzzing from more than just the alcohol in his veins. 

Matt didn’t ask for Billy to return the favor, and there was something in his smile that let Billy know he’d seen the longing looks Billy had thrown toward Freddy downstairs. It made Billy feel stupid for a moment before he pushed the feeling away.

He was at a party, he should be enjoying himself. Getting off had gotten him mostly there, but Billy knew the only thing that would really do it for him was being with Freddy. So he ignored his sluggish head telling him not to and followed his heart downstairs, to where Freddy and Sadie were perched at the far end of a sectional, Sadie’s ass half on the arm and half in Freddy’s lap.

Billy made room for himself on Freddy’s other side, tipped his head back against the cushion and closed his eyes. He could feel Freddy’s heat where their sides pressed together and he swallowed, thinking about upstairs, thinking about four months ago when that heat had been closer, relentless where it pressed inside him.

“You look happy,” Freddy said.

“Is that sarcasm?” Billy asked, honestly unsure. Usually he could tell by Freddy’s face or his voice, but with his buzz and Freddy’s own, it wasn't as easy. 

Freddy laughed, shifted so that their thighs smooshed together, and when Billy opened his eyes he saw Sadie had moved completely off the couch arm. “No, I’m serious. You hate parties, but you look like you’re not minding this one.”

Billy shrugged. “It’s not all bad.”

Sadie raised an eyebrow, but thankfully kept her mouth shut.

Billy tipped his head sideways, casual, and let it rest against the hard ball of Freddy’s shoulder. Freddy smiled at him, soft and tipsy. The three of them sat like that for a while just watching the party happen around them, then Freddy got restless and Billy had to pee. 

He came back to find Freddy in the dining room, propped against a table that had been set up for beer pong. Billy went over to where Sadie was supervising, and they shared a look that left Billy reeling with something unfamiliar. 

Billy watched as Freddy competed, disrupting his dark curls with his hand in between shots. He watched the way Freddy’s dark eyebrows pulled down in concentration, but his focus was on the girl beside him. Billy studied her, because for the first time she wasn’t studying him.

Billy hated the way Sadie zeroed in on him whenever they were in the same room, like he was some sort of case study for her to follow and pick apart. It felt like she was making a game out of his misery, though he knew she wasn’t that cruel. 

“We’re going to have to carry him back,” Sadie said as Freddy downed another cup.

“Good thing he's a lightweight.” Billy took his eyes off Freddy for a moment to look at her, attention catching on the place where her hair was slipping loose from its rubber band. It felt like something, another victory or small moment of satisfaction, and Billy didn’t understand it. Maybe it was the alcohol.

Twenty minutes later Freddy was stumbling through his loss. “It was rigged,” he said, pulling Billy against him and pointing a finger at Sadie when she rolled her eyes. “I had that.”

“You didn’t have shit,” Billy said, pushing him gently away. He wasn’t sober enough to handle having Freddy pressed against him like that, even in a room full of people. “You’re a terrible shot.”

“You could’ve helped me,” Freddy said, pouting, and Billy shook his head.

He and Sadie got Freddy onto the sidewalk outside. Billy got an arm around Freddy’s waist and, when Sadie flanked him on his other side, Billy swung Freddy’s crutch onto his shoulder and got them moving. 

“I’m not an invalid,” Freddy said. “I know how to walk.”

“You know how to fly, too,” Billy said. “But that doesn’t mean you should.”

Freddy groaned, tipped his head to the side the way Billy had on the couch earlier and pressed his nose into Billy’s neck. “Fair point,” he said. “You could carry me.”

“You could fuck off,” Billy said.

Sadie laughed, and Billy couldn't pretend it wasn’t a nice sound. It was obvious why Freddy liked her; she was pretty and straightforward and smarter than both of them, which was probably something Freddy could get off to, and something Billy had no way of competing with. 

Freddy turned his pout on Sadie, and their conversation tunnelled into a debate—something about ethics and the implications of metahumans’ existence, Billy wasn’t quite sure—as they headed back to the dorms, a little lopsided. The three of them walked like a six-legged thing, swaying across the sidewalk.

Billy didn’t follow their words, instead he focused on the repeating lines of the concrete in the dark and the feeling of them beside him. The way Sadie’s laugh seemed to reverberate across Freddy’s ribs to Billy. It was a good feeling, and he didn’t know if it was because of the alcohol or time or something else, but Billy didn’t even mind that Sadie was here.

For once he was thankful for her presence, because it felt like having her here lessened the weight of Freddy at his side. She held Freddy up and kept him steady between them. Billy had to respect her for that.

Billy wasn’t sure how he knew, or when he’d realized, but he could tell Sadie saw right through him when it came to Freddy. Maybe Freddy had told her they’d had sex, or maybe he was obvious enough that Sadie put it together on her own.

It didn’t matter, either way.

Just like they agreed, he and Freddy hadn’t talked about that afternoon. They’d woken up the next morning as if nothing ever happened. Freddy didn’t seem to have any trouble with that arrangement; he continued seeing Sadie over summer and in the time they managed to find outside of classes, and sometimes hooked up with other people at parties. But that didn’t stop Billy from thinking about it constantly; every time Freddy smirked or slipped his shirt off to change, or in the morning when Freddy first woke up and his voice was still rough and stirred the itch Billy still hadn’t mastered. 

Sadie pulled Freddy’s keys from his back pocket and pushed open their door, and together they crossed the room to push Freddy onto his bed. Freddy huffed, pushing Sadie’s hands away as she tried to pull his shoes off. “I’m not that drunk, guys. I can take off my own clothes.”

“Proud of you,” Billy said. He set Freddy’s crutch against the dresser and kicked off his jeans, not looking as Freddy did the same. 

After they turned out the light, Billy curled toward the wall. He listened to Freddy and Sadie’s soft voices across the room, thinking about the way him and Freddy spoke the same way some nights.

If he didn't consider sex, there wasn't a big difference between what he and Freddy had and what Sadie and Freddy had, except maybe love. Billy didn't know, he'd never asked Freddy what he felt for Sadie; he didn't want to hear the answer.

As much as he wanted to, Billy couldn’t hate Sadie. She wasn’t a bad person, even if she had everything he wanted. And whatever she and Freddy were, it was obvious she made him happy. Billy told himself that would have to be enough.

 

Billy woke up needing to pee. He rolled over and checked the time on his phone, then shoved his sheets away and sat up. 

Freddy and Sadie were sound asleep, curled together with Sadie’s leg tucked over Freddy’s bare stomach. Both of them were pantless, and they’d kicked the sheets down in the night. Billy traced Freddy’s thigh, the valley of Sadie’s legs where they parted around Freddy’s pale side. His chest ached. Billy didn’t have to imagine what that would feel like; he’d fallen asleep wrapped around Freddy before, after nightmares or on the few rare nights where they drank back home and passed out in the bottom bunk together. 

Billy got up, crossed the room and shook Freddy awake. Freddy blinked at him, frowning. “You’ve got class in fifteen,” Billy said, and he instantly looked more awake.

“What time is it?” Freddy asked.

“9:45,” Billy answered, ducking to pick up his discarded shirt and pull it on.

“Shit,” Freddy said, sitting up and startling Sadie in the process. He'd convinced himself when they signed up for classes that a 10 am lecture sounded doable, and Billy hadn't talked him out of it. Freddy haphazardly pulled on his clothes as Billy left the room.

By the time Billy returned from peeing, Freddy had left for class and Sadie was fully awake. 

Sadie met Billy’s eyes from her spot on Freddy’s bed. “Have you heard of opportunity cost?” she asked.

Billy fell back into his bed, not really in the mood to talk but knowing he wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep either. “Isn’t that economics?" he asked. "I thought you were a Polysci major?”

Sadie waved his question away. “Have you heard of it?”

The phrase sounded familiar, something Billy had probably learned and forgotten just as quickly for his senior economics class. He shrugged, not sure where she was going with this and not really interested in finding out. He didn't want to hear whatever lesson she was trying to teach him. 

Billy knew Sadie could tell, but she explained anyway. "Well, in layman's terms, it's the cost you have to live with when you choose between two things. Whatever you would have gained if you'd chosen option A, but it's what you give up when you choose option B."

"That's great, Sadie," Billy said.

Sadie rolled her eyes. She leaned forward on Freddy’s mattress, braced her arms on top of her knees and Billy caught the black slip of her underwear again as her shirt slid up. "What I'm getting at is I think you made the wrong choice." 

Billy didn't have to ask, he already knew what she was talking about.

He wanted to tell her to fuck off, that even if she and Freddy had something and she was his second best friend that Sadie had no right to call Billy out, even if it concerned Freddy.

"You say that like I had one to make," Billy said instead, unable to hold his curiosity back. He wanted to hear what Sadie had to say, what she thought she knew, if nothing else than to prove her wrong.

"Just because you talked yourself into thinking that doesn't mean it's true,” she said.

"Just because you have an opinion doesn't mean it's right," Billy countered. 

Sadie shrugged, good-natured. She wasn't trying to fight with him. Billy got the impression she was actually trying to help him, though he had no idea why.

"All I'm saying is maybe you should reconsider. Your opportunity cost is greater than the risk you’re avoiding.” Sadie climbed out of bed and put her pants on, then turned to face him. “You’re not stupid, Billy. I know you can see that.”

She asked if he wanted coffee, then left the room to presumably go get some. Billy laid in bed, half-sober and half-dressed, and thought through their conversation. It didn’t make sense. Why would a girl who had everything he wanted be willing to give it up for him? Especially when Billy had been nothing but apathetic toward her since they met.

Maybe Sadie didn’t understand what she had, how good it was. But, no. Billy knew that wasn’t it. Sadie knew exactly what she had, and what it meant. That loving Freddy was an incredible opportunity, and maybe she could see that if she wasn’t going to do it justice, Billy would.

Sadie lifted an eyebrow at Billy when she came back, handing his coffee over and sitting down by his hip. “You’re overthinking it,” she said.

Billy set his cup on his chest, stared at the ceiling. Sadie slurped at her coffee, loud and annoying until Billy sat up and took it away from her. She laughed, and Billy felt alright for the first time in months. 

***

When Freddy came back from class, he found them propped together on Billy’s bed like old friends, watching videos on Sadie’s phone.


	3. Held

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the new remix of FOB's Church featuring nothing, nowhere is the mood for this. I'm the author, I make the rules.

A week later, Sadie’s words were still running through Billy’s head.

Stupid analogies aside, Sadie had a point. Billy had made a choice and, in the moment he made it, it felt like the best one. Like the only one. 

Now, though, living with the resulting heartache seemed stupid. Freddy wouldn’t have given him a choice if he hadn’t wanted Billy to actually consider it, right? If Freddy didn’t want to talk about it, he would have just made Billy come home and not mentioned what happened between them. But Freddy had brought it up. He put the decision in Billy’s hands, the way he always did when he was unsure of himself, and Billy had made the wrong choice. A choice based on fear instead of honesty. 

But Billy didn’t know how to fix it; he wasn’t good at this. He didn't know how to be honest or casual, not the way Freddy did. 

Billy tried looking for open spots, places to insert some sort of half-assed confession and apology—sitting on their carpet together, watching Freddy eat Chinese takeout with chopsticks; in the split second after they said go before they jumped off a roof while patrolling; lying in bed talking at night. He thought about just blurting it out, interrupting their conversation and hoping for the best. If Sadie was wrong, if Freddy didn't feel the same, then he could just act like he was asleep. Roll over and pretend and go back to hating himself in the morning.

Billy thought about doing that, but he didn't. He talked about nothing with Freddy until Freddy stopped responding, his breathing evening out and Billy's chest settling with it. He couldn't confess to someone who couldn't hear him. Well—

“I lied,” Billy said. He waited for Freddy to answer, to move, to do anything at all.

Freddy’s breathing remained unchanged. Billy closed his eyes, swallowed enough air down to carry the words on his exhale. “I love you,” he said, and the words distorted the darkness, crossed the room only to come back to him, unheard, unanswered. 

Freddy couldn’t hear him, and it was probably better that way. 

It didn’t used to be this hard. When Billy had been searching for his mom that had been everything, all other feelings seemed lesser than. Then he’d moved in with the Vasquez’s and that definition had changed. Everything became a lot of little things. Over the years, it became Freddy. 

Billy didn’t think about it often, didn’t let himself go there, but if he were being honest he owed Freddy everything. He wouldn’t be here without Freddy—sharing a messy dorm, scraping by in his courses; a passable adult and a decent superhero; alive, to say any of that. It wasn’t a question so much as a fact.

It wasn’t a good thought, as much as Billy wanted it to be, and it pulled out old emotions that left his chest feeling split open and bruised before he told himself to get a grip. He wanted to do something stupid. He wanted to crawl out of his own bed and stumble across their dark room to Freddy’s. He wanted to go back in time a few months and make good on Sadie’s words, see if it would have paid off if he’d just taken the chance when he had it. Billy wondered if it was better that he didn’t know, or if living with the outcome would have been easier in the long run.

He must have fallen asleep at some point, because he startled awake when something hit the ground. Billy blinked through his confusion and tried to focus. 

Across the room, Freddy’s breathing was strangled. 

Billy ripped his sheets off and got up. He crossed the room on instinct, stopping an inch short of stepping on Freddy where he was curled on the ground. Billy bent down, found Freddy’s shoulders in the dark. They were shaking. 

“Freddy,” he said. Again, louder.

Freddy didn’t answer, but Billy could tell he was awake by the way he tensed. Billy tried not to think at all—he wasn’t good under pressure, but he’d worked through Freddy’s nightmares back home enough times now that he didn’t need to be. Billy didn’t panic, even as Freddy’s whimpers, muffled against the carpet, caved his chest in. “C’mon,” he said.

He gripped Freddy’s shoulders and hauled him up, until they were sitting against Freddy’s bed. Freddy leaned against him, fisting the fabric of Billy’s t-shirt. He tucked his nose into Billy’s neck and Billy felt the saltwater clinging to Freddy’s eyelashes like a kiss. 

He tightened his hold, not caring what it would look like in daylight or what Freddy might think about it later. Billy wasn’t doing it for himself, but because Freddy needed to feel him there. Freddy always sought physical comfort after waking up like this; he told Billy once that he used to wake Rosa and Victor up every time he had a nightmare. He would crawl into bed with them or one of them would sit downstairs with him until he felt calm enough to go back to sleep. 

When Billy moved in, Freddy didn’t have to look as far. Billy never denied him. He would crawl down from the top bunk and pull Freddy against him, ignore his soaked shirt and the nights where he woke up in the same position, but never said a word about it to anyone. If Freddy knew, he never said anything either.

Freddy blinked fast against his throat, gripped Billy’s side above his ribs. He folded himself closer, straddling Billy, and they pressed chest to chest. Billy let his head fall back against the mattress and unwound Freddy’s curls with his fingers. “I’ve got you,” he said.

They sat like that until Freddy calmed down. Slowly, he relaxed against Billy’s body, loosened his hold on Billy’s side but didn’t remove it. “Sorry,” he said. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s okay,” Billy said. “It’s fine. You know I don’t mind.”

Freddy sighed, too exhausted to argue. He slipped a hand beneath Billy’s t-shirt and his fingers traced the warm skin there. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

“Not really,” Freddy said.

Billy kept his head tipped back, eyes closed against the gray darkness of their room. Minutes passed in silence, the night and their room narrowed down to the feeling of Freddy’s thumb smoothing across Billy’s hip. 

Billy should tell him to stop, should push Freddy away now that he’s calmed down and make them both go back to bed. 

Billy didn’t. His want was stronger than his sleep-dulled ability to deny himself, and something about his conversation with Sadie kept him from panicking.

Freddy shifted in his lap, and Billy’s cock stirred. He held himself still as he hardened, let Freddy touch his stomach and hip. Slow, exploratory. 

It felt safer in the dark somehow, like they could pretend this wasn’t happening or that it was happening in a vacuum. Sitting pressed together on the floor, nothing else mattered. Only Freddy in his lap and the feeling of their warm bodies pressed together. It felt like being held, even though Billy was the one holding.

When Freddy pressed closer, his cock pushed against Billy’s stomach. He was hard.

It probably didn’t mean anything. It was a natural response, from being sleepy and vulnerable with their bodies flush together. Still, Billy’s heart leapt at the feeling, scrambling to line this up with everything else he knew. 

"Freddy."

“Tell me to stop,” Freddy said. His voice was still scratchy from sleep and crying and the sound pooled low in Billy’s gut. 

Billy shifted, straightening his legs out beneath Freddy. The action created friction, rubbing their cocks together through their boxers and pulling a soft groan from Freddy’s throat. Billy got ahold of Freddy’s hips, tipped his own up slightly to grind them together again. 

“We should,” Billy said.

“Do you want to?”

Billy didn’t have to think about it. “No.”

“Okay,” Freddy whispered, almost to himself, then he leaned up and kissed Billy’s throat. 

Billy tilted his chin away, let his hand slide up the backside of Freddy’s t-shirt as Freddy kissed his neck. Slow and deliberate and hot, lips slick against the skin there. He bit at the junction of Billy’s jaw, taking his time with it. 

Freddy had left marks last time, scattered like a claim along his happy trail. Billy had never seen any marks on Sadie, and he wondered absently if that was because Sadie didn’t like them or if Freddy only felt a need to put them on Billy.

Billy moaned at the thought, at the feeling of Freddy’s mouth on him. Freddy grinded against him and started to pull back, but Billy got a grip in his hair and brought him down against his mouth. Freddy’s lips were spit-slick and warm, and Billy knew next to nothing about kissing but it didn't matter. He kept Freddy there with his hand, fingers catching in his curls and nails scratching at the short hairs at the back of Freddy’s neck. 

Their tongues slid together and Billy’s heart rose into his throat. It was better than the first time, because there was no pressure. Billy wasn’t scared of losing this; it had already happened once, which was one time more than he thought he’d get. And now it was happening again. Now Freddy wanted it just as obviously as Billy did. Billy didn’t have to worry about fucking up again, not with Freddy rutting their cocks together and Freddy’s mouth against his.

They broke apart to pull their shirts off, then fell back together. Freddy’s breath was hot against Billy’s mouth and he took it in, drunk on the man in his lap.

“Can we—” Freddy broke off, pressed their lips together again. Fast, casual. “Please,” he said, and it took Billy’s slow brain a second to catch up. 

“Yeah,” Billy said. “Whatever you want.”

Freddy lifted himself up to lean over, and Billy held him steady as he rummaged through the dresser. Before Freddy could straddle him again, Billy caught the top of Freddy’s boxers and pulled them down his thighs. 

Freddy returned to Billy’s lap without bothering to discard the briefs all the way. His cock slid roughly against Billy’s stomach before Freddy pressed their mouths together again, trapping it between them.

Freddy shoved the lube bottle into Billy’s hands and said, “Will you stretch me? If you want. Is that okay?”

Billy bit his lip, but he said, “Yeah.” 

He only knew what to do because he’d done it enough times to himself. When Billy slicked his fingers and followed the curve of Freddy’s ass to slip the first one in, Freddy sighed in what sounded like relief. Like he’d been wanting this.

Billy didn’t let himself get hopeful, just focused on his fingers working inside Freddy. On the tight heat of Freddy’s body and the sounds Billy was pulling out of him, stifled where his nose was pressed to Billy’s throat. 

Billy knew he could stay like this all night, just fucking his fingers slow into Freddy and dragging this out. He almost wanted to, wanted to see how long he could hold onto this, but his cock ached in the confines of his boxers and Freddy was impatient. 

Freddy caught Billy’s wrist and pulled his hand away, then said, “Okay, enough. C’mon, boxers off.”

“Yes, sir,” Billy said, half-joking, but Freddy’s resulting laugh came out a little strangled. 

Freddy got off of him to kick his own boxers off while Billy did the same, tossing them across the room to be found tomorrow. Evidence of this moment, proof he wasn’t dreaming.

Billy got a hand around himself as Freddy crawled back into his lap, slicking his cock with the lube left on his fingers. Freddy kissed him again, tracing Billy’s lip with his tongue. He braced a hand on the mattress behind Billy to hold himself up. Then he reached down and gripped Billy’s cock, lining it up before sinking down onto it. 

Billy’s head tipped back at the feeling, nails biting into the soft skin of Freddy’s hips. He was buried in Freddy, drowning, but with Freddy’s weight on top of him Billy felt like he could finally breathe. 

“Fuck,” Freddy said. His hands found Billy’s shoulders, thumbs tracing tight circles against his collarbone. They sat like that for a minute. Billy traced Freddy’s spine, slid his hand down to cup Freddy’s ass, settled again on his hip.

Freddy spread his thighs and leaned back, settling farther on Billy’s cock and pulling twin moans from their throats. He lifted himself up on shaky thighs, then sank back down.

“God, Freddy,” Billy moaned.

“I know.”

Freddy lifted himself again, sank back down. He tried to keep at it, but it didn’t last long. After only a few times, Freddy’s thighs were shaking hard beneath Billy’s hands and his breaths turned to panting against Billy’s neck. 

Billy gripped Freddy’s hips and kept him down. “Hold still,” he said. “I’ve got you, let me do this.” 

Billy held Freddy in place and thrust up into him. He managed to find a rhythm, and Freddy collapsed against him, mouthing at Billy’s throat between moans.

Billy fucked Freddy from below, slowly. He drew it out and made it last. He made it count. There was no promise of a next time, and Billy wasn’t going to make the same mistake a second time.

Freddy held onto him as tightly as Billy did, biting his nails into Billy’s side. His hand found Billy’s throat and their mouths met again, sloppy and desperate. Billy loved the feeling of it, the ease of it; Freddy’s hold on his pulse and the overwhelming feeling of him clenched around Billy’s cock.

It was everything he’d ever wanted; it was the second after Billy called on the lightning but before it struck, hot and thick and charged. A moment of raw anticipation. Then he was coming, and that electricity shot through him, drawing him out, shaping him back together.

The rhythm Billy found stuttered out as he came, unable to focus on keeping it.

“Ah, fuck,” Freddy whispered, and then his muscles were clenching around Billy’s spent cock. Freddy came untouched, Billy’s name in his mouth.

He folded against Billy afterward. Billy’s chest slowed as his orgasm faded and exhaustion bent down to replace it. He focused on the rapid fire of Freddy’s heart through their chests, the soft heat of his body and the thick feeling that found him in the minutes after.

“I lied,” Billy said. 

“What?” Freddy asked. He didn’t lift his forehead from Billy’s shoulder. 

“I love you.” 

Freddy didn’t say anything. 

Billy set a hand against Freddy’s spine to keep him there and let sleep pull him under.

***

Freddy’s body ached, but he didn’t dare move. The muscles of his thighs and back felt like they’d been stretched thin, compressed again and locked stiff. He’d spent hours in this position, bent in half in Billy’s lap while they slept, but he stayed put long after he’d woken up. 

Billy was half-hard inside him, had his head tipped back against Freddy’s mattress and his mouth parted on slow, even breaths. Freddy risked leaning away to look at him, then felt like a voyeur and stopped. He folded himself back against Billy’s chest, smiled stupidly into his skin when Billy hugged him closer unconsciously.

Billy's hold tightened as he woke.

“You’re still here,” he said, voice like the hard pull of something strong.

“It’s my room,” Freddy responded, defaulting to sarcasm when honesty felt like too much.

Billy sighed, kept his eyes closed on the ceiling as he traced Freddy’s naked spine. “You know what I mean.”

And Freddy did, he just didn’t know how to say that. Part of avoiding falling in love meant he’d never done it before Billy, and he had no idea how to admit that now. Everything worth saying felt too far out of reach, and Freddy didn’t know if it was because of the moment or the morning or him. He wasn’t good at this—he’d never had to be before.

“What changed?” Freddy asked instead. This was different than the first time, because Billy was still here too. He hadn’t pushed Freddy away or run, he’d held onto him all night and brought it up first this time. 

“I got a lecture from your girl,” Billy said. “About how I was an idiot and ruining my own life. Not in those words, but you know.”

“Yeah,” Freddy said, and it was the truth. Sadie had given him the same speech. He laughed, picturing her rehearsing it, taking the time to sit them both down because they were too stupid or scared to figure it out on their own. God, he owed the universe for her.

Billy’s heart had picked up where it pressed between them, and Freddy realized his mistake. He couldn’t keep running from this; it wasn’t fair and all it did was hurt the person he wanted to keep safe.

“I love you.” Freddy leaned back fully to meet Billy’s eyes, took Billy’s chin in his hands to make sure his words got through. “I should have said it back. I should have told you fucking forever ago. I thought I’d lose you if I said it, that you’d hate me or we’d try something and it wouldn’t work in the end. But I do—I love you. I’m saying it now. I’m sorry it took me so long.”

Billy blinked, and Freddy loved him. His soft eyes and hard, full body and the small, hopeful curve of his lips. Freddy couldn't help it, he leaned back in and kissed him, cutting off Billy’s response in the process.

Billy laughed, pushed at Freddy’s chest but kept him close. “You mean that?”

“Every word,” Freddy said. “All of it, and I could say more if you need to hear it—”

“No,” Billy said, squeezing his hips, jacking his pulse. “Stop talking, Freeman. I love you, too.”

Freddy nodded, felt his chest loosen around that knowledge. He felt stupid for shrinking away from this for so long, but somehow thankful as well. If he was going to fall in love with anyone, he would want it to be Billy. And here they were.

“How long?” Freddy asked, wanting to see the big, untouchable picture suddenly. There was nothing they could do to change it, now; they couldn’t go back, but he still wanted to know. Wanted to have the information for later, to make up lost time.

“Years,” Billy said. “I don’t know, it feels like forever. I don’t remember not, I just remember being terrified. I realized I liked guys when I realized I liked you, and by that point it was too late. I didn’t wanna be with anyone else.” 

Freddy didn’t miss the anxious waver of Billy’s voice. He leaned back down, slotted their mouths together easily. “Me too. Same,” he said, because he’d apparently used up his intelligence quota for the day already. 

Freddy knew Billy didn’t believe him, not fully. Not after watching Freddy have casual sex for years without taking any emotional damage. But Freddy didn’t know how to make him see that no one else mattered; sex had been a distraction, and that he’d never cared about any of the people he’d slept with because he didn’t have the energy to. All of him was spent loving Billy, and it had been that way right from the start. Even Sadie, their friendship aside, had fallen victim to that. Though, Freddy knew she’d scoff at that label—a victim wasn’t willing.

Freddy wanted to say all of that. He wanted to shove it alongside all the other things inside Billy’s head, to inject what Freddy felt for him into his veins so that he wouldn’t doubt this. But Billy just shook his head. His smile was small and crooked, like he didn’t quite believe Freddy was real, and Freddy had to remind himself that this was just the start. There would be a next time now, and he could wait until then to make his point.

Billy was hard inside him, and he looked at Freddy like he adored him. It felt like coming home after being gone, like stripping weight and sinking into familiar sheets.

“Can we get off the floor now?” Freddy asked, half-sore and half-serious. 

Billy clenched his teeth around a laugh, “Yeah, sorry.” He slid his hands beneath Freddy’s ass and hoisted him up. Freddy cried out in surprise, feeling the sharp burn of Billy’s cock as it left him. Billy dumped Freddy on his bed but didn’t hesitate to follow him down.

He pinned Freddy to the mattress, kissed him and touched him and didn’t once loosen his hold. Freddy gave back everything he got, said Billy’s name and a dozen other things—sappy and stupid and sexual. He came with a full feeling. 

Freddy pulled Billy back up, tasted himself on Billy’s tongue and thought, _here it is: love._

A feeling, a person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> going to take a step back from fic for a while to bully myself into finishing my novel, but I'm still gonna use fic as an incentive to write, so I won't disappear completely. I still have a few things in my head I wanna get on paper (screen?). fingers crossed guys!  
> +  
> the link to my tumblr is in my profile if you wanna talk about these idiots or my novel, i'm 100% down


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